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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26578612">contempt of court</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrlen/pseuds/sorrlen'>sorrlen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Royalty, First Kiss, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Sparring, but Keith pines too, this is not complimentary of curtis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:54:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,895</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26578612</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrlen/pseuds/sorrlen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Matt’s keen eyes find him entering the hall moments after Keith, who darts off towards the servant hallways. Shiro doesn’t realise that he’s stopped – staring hopelessly after a door swinging shut – until Matt grabs his arm and guides him back towards the throne. </p>
  <p>“Shiro, how do you explain yourself,” he hisses. “Slipping away with a servant and ignoring your suitors! Earlier, was it something that distracted you, or <i>someone</i>?”</p>
</blockquote>Prince Shiro is entertaining guests for the choice of his betrothed but in the party spots servant Keith in the crowd and becomes infatuated.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith/Shiro (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>166</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Sheith Prompt Party 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>contempt of court</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>thank you to sheithparty for organising this! this was such a sweet prompt and i hope you enjoy.<br/>tw for vague discussions of war, a brief suggestion of alcohol abuse</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Shiro pulls at the hem of his brocade doublet with his hand, the silver material stiffer than the usual cotton tunics he favours during his leisure. The jerkin he buttons with slight difficulty, and slowly spins to the nods of approval of his advisor and closest friend, Lord Matthew Holt.</p><p>“You look ravishing, my prince,” Matt offers, his face spread in its usual teasing smile, and Shiro huffs out a laugh as he steps forward to pin the heavy fur-lined overcoat to Shiro’s chest. “They’ll be throwing themselves at your feet.”</p><p>“Matt,” Shiro groans reproachfully, swatting at his shoulder. Already he feels his face flush at the idea of being<em> courted</em>. “I don’t know if I can do this.”</p><p>Matt shrugs, tilting his head to the left as he admires his handiwork.</p><p>“Just take it like another day on the battlefield, Shiro,” he says, and here his voice turns uncharacteristically serious. “Do what you have to do and just pick someone.”</p><p>Shiro swallows as he considers himself in the mirror. The face that looks back at him is unsure, and he’s quick to avert his eyes from the jagged scar tissue across his nose.</p><p>“This kingdom needs stability,” Matt continues, kneeling to help Shiro toe into his boots. When Shiro doesn’t reply, he sighs and stands to grasp Shiro’s arm. “You can always- you can always take others to your bed, Shiro.”</p><p>Shiro pulls away from him and runs a hand through his hair, mussing the artful backcomb that his manservant had styled a few minutes ago. “I know, Matt,” he exhales, the silk suddenly pulling too tight across his chest. “But I don’t think I could.”</p><p>Matt bites his lip, turning away to open the heavy wood doors to Shiro’s chambers. He gestures towards the stone passageway, awash with warmth from the metal sconces, and Shiro obediently makes his way with him towards the Great Hall.</p><p>“You’ve won the war for us, Shiro,” Matt murmurs, after a moment of silence passes. As they round a corner, he meets Shiro’s eyes with a heavy, pointed look.</p><p>“It’s time for you to rest.”</p><p>---</p><p>“Presenting His Royal Highness, Prince Takashi Shirogane.”</p><p>The crowd immediately parts as he and Matt step through the doorway, dresses and overgowns swishing as the nobles of his court spin to face him. The attention, heightened by the formality of the event, is almost overwhelming, but Shiro steels himself and advances towards his throne.</p><p>He nods at the Lords Garrett and McClain and saves a genuine smile for the Princess of Altea, who inclines her head gracefully at him. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him, bears the weight of their gazes on his attire and how they linger on the droop of the cloak over where his right arm should be.</p><p>But Shiro also looks upwards at the elaborate tapestries hanging from the eaves of the ceiling and over the stained windows that present the fierce prance of a black lion. The Shirogane crest, suspended again in its rightful place when only a fortnight prior it was still being flung from wooden poles onto blood-soaked earth.</p><p>The jewels and bands too that shine at the necks and wrists of those in attendance are proof that people are no longer afraid. Shiro finds the fists at his sides slowly unclenching as he acknowledges more and more of his court, part of a resounding sense of relief that echoes around the room.  </p><p>After a year full of unrest, his kingdom can finally breathe.</p><p>The silence is broken by an alarming <em>clang</em> of dishware falling onto the wooden floor, followed by that of a person –  </p><p>Shiro’s already moving towards the young servant he glimpses through the crowd, their body in a painful sprawl on the ground. They wear the tunic worn by those working in the kitchen and he hopes they’re not too badly injured, but Matt halts him with a tug on his arm.</p><p>“My prince, you should let the other servants handle it,” Matt whispers, and it’s just so that someone else’s quick movement in the direction of the confusion catches Shiro’s eye. The man’s hair grazes the collar of his tunic, his dress similar to that of the servant who had fallen, and Shiro sees the strong line of his back as he bends to help them up.</p><p>Shiro’s ushered along by Matt to the front of the hall with a firm hand on his back. When he turns his head to look, the two servants have been swallowed by the crowd, as if the interruption had never occurred.</p><p>And then it’s time for him to address the court. Shiro ascends the few steps to his throne, the train of his coat trailing on the mahogany as he climbs. When he turns to face the crowd, expectant eyes fall upon him and he thinks he stops breathing for a few seconds.</p><p>Next to the throne, Matt coughs somewhat indiscreetly. Shiro quickly opens his mouth.</p><p>“Members of the court and people of our great kingdom,” he starts, his voice gaining in volume and resonance as he speaks<em>. Just like another day on the battlefield</em>. “We gather to celebrate our victory, and our well-earned rest. Today you join me for a joyous occasion, where I – where today one of the princes of the neighbouring kingdoms will be united with me in betrothal.”</p><p>Shiro pauses to breathe as applause and “hear hears” ring out from those before him, raising a hand for quiet. “I shall not delay any longer,” he says, and nods at the musicians at the side of the hall. “Let the festivities begin!”</p><p>A tune is struck up and dancers take to the floor with a poised number to open the ceremonies. Shiro slowly sits in his throne as Matt moves to his side. He arranges the cloak on Shiro’s shoulders, keeping his voice low as he leans in to mutter, “Good work, Shiro. Just. Remember to smile for the next part.”</p><p>Shiro plasters a broad smile on his face and Matt winces, nodding in encouragement. A short line has gathered at the foot of the steps before him and Shiro takes a deep breath.</p><p>“My prince,” Matt announces. “Pray welcome his Royal Highness, the Crown Prince Kinkade of Xutha.”</p><p>A strong-jawed, tall man quietly steps forward, bowing to Shiro. He’s clothed in the sleek robes of his kingdom, a heavy gold ring around his neck to signal his position. “Prince Shiro,” he says, and it is even and confident. “Please accept my utmost gratitude for your role in the war, as well as the gifts I have selected for you this day.”</p><p>He waves his retinue forward and Shiro’s met with boxes upon boxes of precious Xutha silks. Xutha had been a stalwart ally in the fight, and Shiro finds that his smile turns genuine as he inclines his head.</p><p>“My thanks for your gifts, Prince Kinkade. It is good to see you again,” Shiro replies, and as Matt gestures for Prince Kinkade to step to the side and for the next prince to come forward, he thinks that this might not be too bad.</p><p>---</p><p>It’s the fifth prince’s turn, and Shiro wishes to retract his former statement.</p><p>While shouts of laughter and merry have increased tenfold from the rest of the hall, here Shiro is, his eyes blurring over as another man rises before him, having dropped into a completely unnecessary kneel.</p><p>He supposes it’s because prince number two had spent half of an hour waxing lyrical about Shiro’s heroic feats in battle. Perhaps Shiro would have been a bit more flattered had the words not sounded like an exact rip-off of the latest bard song, “Prince Shiro, Lion Hero”, going around the taverns.</p><p>And now Prince Caspian – no, it was Prince Curtis – is bowing, and Shiro’s struggling to keep up. His eyes flick, unbidden, to the mass of nobles now coming together in something more like a jig than a pavane, all inhibitions dissolving in the syrup of vineyards, and he wishes he could join them.</p><p>Then, Shiro sees him.</p><p>There, in the crowd, a touch of red. Darting in and out of the people to offer drink, food, and chairs for those who have partaken to excess. The longer-haired servant from earlier moves with confidence, head lowered and a burst of colour wherever he goes amongst the dulled burgundy and browns of current court fashion.</p><p>Shiro keeps an ear out for the tidings Prince Curtis brings, nodding and humming during appropriate pauses. Yet, he can’t seem to help the way his eyes slide to the vibrant crimson in the background ever so often. Shiro finds him again and again, and something like a little jolt of fire runs through his veins when he sees the man’s face in profile.</p><p>But his view is impeded by the distance. Shiro shifts a little in the throne when the man disappears like a phantom and does not reappear, craning his neck just a little further to see –</p><p>“– Prince Shiro, are you well?”</p><p>Shiro snaps his head back to look at Prince Curtis, whose lower lip is caught between his teeth, and Matt, who is glaring icily at him from behind Prince Curtis’ shoulder. <em>God’s teeth</em>. Shiro immediately stands, bowing low to the other prince.</p><p>“Prince Curtis, forgive me, I –,” he hurries out, and Prince Curtis holds out his palms to gesture that Shiro should straighten.</p><p>“No, no, Prince Shiro. The fault is mine. The battle is only fourteen days past, and you must still require rest after all your exertions.” He gives Shiro a small smile and Shiro thanks the heavens that he hasn’t just antagonised another kingdom at a dance to celebrate the end of a war.</p><p>Matt makes some strange, clucking noises. He’s holding his hands out and intentionally swaying from side-to-side. Shiro stares at him in confusion until it clicks and he hastily continues.</p><p>“Prince Curtis, I’m – I would like to – may I have the next dance?” Shiro gestures out towards the hall, and Prince Curtis’ eyes widen. Matt grins in affirmation.</p><p>“I would be honoured, Prince Shiro,” he says, ducking his head as a crimson blush spreads across his cheeks. Prince Curtis steps out onto the floor of the hall, heels clacking sharply against the solid marble. “I will be waiting near the musicians.”</p><p>Shiro’s smile is frozen on his face until Prince Curtis gets far enough, and then he drops back into his throne and lets out a slow exhale.</p><p>“What in God’s name was that, Shiro?” Matt asks anxiously, putting a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “Do you need to retire to your chambers?”</p><p>“No, no,” Shiro sighs, contrite, and scrubs at his face with his hands. “Something else distracted me, Matt. It won’t happen again.”</p><p>Matt’s tone is firm, if a little anxious. “Remember, Shiro, this engagement is for the people before you are crowned king. A strong alliance will be crucial to keeping everyone safe.”</p><p>Something twists inside Shiro, but he gives an acquiescing nod, covering his eyes with a hand.</p><p><em>He can do this</em>.</p><p>“You there, a drink for his lordship,” Matt orders, and a figure approaches the throne from his right. Matt holds Shiro’s goblet up in front of him, and an arm clothed in red moves to pour wine.</p><p>Shiro glances sideways to the servant and does a double take when he <em>recognises</em>. That sharp nose, the curve of his throat as he bends over Shiro so the red liquid flows steadily into his cup –</p><p><em>Fuck</em>. Shiro’s holding his breath, tracing the darkened curve of the man’s long eyelashes, the angular cheekbones, and his handsome eyes, now lidded slightly in concentration as he supports the heavy pitcher. The muscles in his arm, straining at the cloth of the tunic, belie a strength that makes Shiro’s cheeks warm.</p><p>Somehow Shiro feels heady without having indulged, the thrum of the music echoing his heartbeat in his ears. Time seems to slow as the man bows and retreats.</p><p>Matt pushes the goblet towards him so Shiro automatically drinks, and by the time Shiro searches the crowd for him, he’s gone once again. He’s never felt this way before. If he didn’t know better, he’d suspect bewitchment.</p><p>“It’s time for the dance you promised Prince Curtis,” Matt’s telling him, and like a marionette Shiro moves towards the lively quartet entertaining the crowd. Try as he might, his vision, brimming with murky hues, is absent of the red he seeks. Instead, his feet come to a stop in front of Curtis, and he readies himself with another smile.</p><p>A wave of chatter starts as Shiro bows to Curtis and takes his hand in his, moving towards the line of dancers who have coupled up. It’s Shiro’s first public dance too, since the war, and all eyes are on him.</p><p>Together, they face the throne, taking three steps forward to a familiar melody. Easily he and Curtis glide across the floor, stepping and jumping in turn, and Shiro tries his best to put his heart into it. Once, he spots red at the corner of his eye, only to be disappointed at the sight of a much shorter servant. He and Curtis talk as the dance progresses and it is a worthy effort, but the conversation is stilted and eventually peters out.</p><p>Shiro clears his throat as they turn, and the musicians give the final bar. He watches as Curtis bows, his head a muddle of thoughts.</p><p><em>I suppose I could learn to love him</em>. Shiro fixes his eyes to the circlet on Curtis’ head. His large kingdom would be a great boon, their resources rich and plentiful.</p><p>The music halts briefly as the dancers get their bearings and invitations are offered and declined. Shiro knows he should probably extend his own to the man before him, or at least ask one of the other princes to dance, but Curtis’ hopeful gaze gives him stay.</p><p>“So, my prince, may I have the next dance?” Curtis asks, when he realises that no such invitation is forthcoming. His face is split with a large smile, eyes bright with the enjoyable music, and Shiro – Shiro needs some air.</p><p>
  <em>Sorry Matt.</em>
</p><p>Shiro takes a step back. “I have to excuse myself, sir,” Shiro says, stumbling over the words and shaking his head. “I would like to dance with you, only I have found that I am – fatigued – just as you said.”</p><p>Curtis’ face falls. “Should I send for a doctor, your Highness?”</p><p>Shiro holds up a hand. “I am well enough, I only desire a moment of peace,” Shiro says, just as a nobleman begins a loud toast. Curtis nods sympathetically, so Shiro quickly turns on his heel to exit the hall through one of the side doors.</p><p>The noise peters out as he treads down the hallway until he can no longer hear it. It really is blessed silence, he thinks wryly, and sheds his heavy cloak. How unaccustomed he has grown to sounds of joy after a year of terrible noises – the clashing, crunching, screaming Shiro still hears in his sleep.</p><p>He stands in the empty corridor until his breathing slows, then gives in to the whim of leaning his forehead against the cool stone wall.</p><p>Maybe he was a fool to think he was prepared for marriage. Clinical decisions have to be made in the heat of war, but this – this is a matter of the rest of his life. The rest of his kingdom’s as well, and Shiro can’t even remember the last time he’d thought about having another man.</p><p>Until today, that is.</p><p>Images of plush, bow lips rush to the forefront of Shiro’s mind and he has to fight the reddening of his face. His voice had been like velvet, low and full-bodied, as he responded to Matt. Shiro’s shocked at how desperate he feels.</p><p>Footsteps suddenly start down the hall towards him from the Great Hall, growing louder and louder, and slow to a stop behind him. A page, perhaps, sent by Matt to find him. Shiro straightens, ready to dismiss the intruder.</p><p>But then, that same deep, velvet voice rings out.</p><p>“My lord, if you would please return to the Great Hall.”</p><p>---</p><p>Shiro turns, slowly, and the servant flinches slightly.</p><p>“Your Highness,” he breathes, eyes widening, and bends into a deep bow at the waist. “I apologise for addressing you improperly.”</p><p>The bow causes his hair to fall forward, revealing a triangle of skin at the nape of his neck. Shiro swallows, hard. It is almost as if Shiro has conjured him.</p><p>“You do not have to apologise.” Shiro steps closer. “I am the one at a loss, in fact, I find I do not know your name.”</p><p>When the servant just stands there, stunned, Shiro gives a gentle prod. “I am familiar with the names of those I interact with in the castle, but I do not recall you in the kitchens.”</p><p>“Oh, I am Keith – I do not work usually in the kitchens, my prince,” Keith says, raising his head cautiously. “I am employed in the stables and armoury. Today’s celebration required the attendance of all palace servants.”</p><p><em>In the armoury?</em> Shiro can’t help but run a hand over his eyes. “I see. Perhaps we are both out of our depth here.”</p><p>Keith does not reply, and immediately Shiro realises how his remark may have been misconstrued.</p><p>“No,” he says frantically. “I did not mean to imply that you are incompetent, Keith. It is just – we are both unaccustomed to – what is needed of us at this time.”</p><p>The last part comes out rather pitifully. Keith’s eyes run over his face, assessing him with an intensity he is unused to, and Shiro clears his throat.       </p><p>“How is the servant that tripped?”</p><p>Gracefully, Keith accepts the change in subject. “They are well, my prince. A slight strain of the back, but nothing rest will not cure.”</p><p>“I am glad to hear it,” Shiro exhales. “The fall was hard, and I’m sorry that my responsibilities did not allow me to aid them.”</p><p>Keith gives him another contemplative look, and Shiro turns his head to hide his flush from the scrutiny, scuffing the tip of his boot against the ground.</p><p>“My prince,” Keith starts, and Shiro thinks his voice is considerably warmer than before. “I regret that I have not previously encountered you at the training grounds.”</p><p>Shiro fiddles with the cloak he’s holding. “It is Lord Iverson’s wish that I return, but I have not been to train – not since – well –”</p><p>He gestures to what is left of his right arm, the doublet sleeve modified to a gathered hem, and forces a half-hearted chuckle. “I’m sorry for taking you from your duties, Keith. Self-pity is not a worthy exercise.”</p><p>Keith only shakes his head, his firm gaze strangely indignant. “Your Highness, it is – an honour that you have chosen to share your thoughts with me. We all know what you did for this kingdom, and,” he hesitates for a moment, “I can inform Lord Holt that you are indisposed.”</p><p>Shiro gives him a real laugh this time and puts his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I appreciate the sentiment, Keith, but I would not have you telling falsehoods on my behalf simply because I fancy escaping marriage.”</p><p>Keith seems to pull to his full height as Shiro’s hand rests on him. Shiro can feel the slow breath he takes as he opens his mouth, his brow furrowed.</p><p>“You are not keen on this betrothal, sir?”</p><p>It is an indelicate statement, but Shiro thrills at Keith’s directness. He’s had enough sympathy for a lifetime.</p><p>“I am just – tired,” Shiro says, letting his shoulders sag, and Keith nods like he understands and not like he is obliged to.</p><p>“You have sacrificed your body for this kingdom, my prince,” he replies, and Shiro feels a warm shiver spread across his skin at his words. “You should not need to sacrifice your heart as well.”</p><p>Shiro inhales, the sound palpable in the barren hallway, and they look at each other as the silence stretches. Keith’s eyes are gentle, though it feels as if he’s just taken a cudgel to Shiro’s chest.</p><p>War had always entailed Shiro’s utter devotion. <em>Demanded it</em>. There had never been one more prepared to fall upon their enemies’ swords than Shiro, so long as it would keep his kingdom from harm. Keith is the first to have Shiro want otherwise.</p><p>And there comes the unmistakable horn sounding the wrapping up of the ball.</p><p>Keith steps back, gaze unreadable before it drops to the ground, and Shiro is somehow bereft.</p><p>“You have to return, your Highness,” Keith murmurs, speaking more to the carpet than to him. Shiro feels the cold starkly now, nodding and wrapping his cloak around himself again.</p><p>They make their way back to the hall. Keith does not attempt to engage him in conversation, his posture exemplary. Though Shiro’s but a few steps behind Keith, it feels like it could well be the entire length of the castle.</p><p>Matt’s keen eyes find him entering the hall moments after Keith, who darts off towards the servant hallways. Shiro doesn’t realise that he’s stopped – staring hopelessly after a door swinging shut – until Matt grabs his arm and guides him back towards the throne.</p><p>“Shiro, how do you explain yourself,” he hisses. “Slipping away with a servant and ignoring your suitors! Earlier, was it something that distracted you, or <em>someone</em>?”</p><p>Shiro opens his mouth to defend himself, but his traitorous face colours instead, and words escape him.</p><p>Matt sighs like a man suffering. “You have to make the announcement presently, Shiro. I suggest Prince Curtis. He was most concerned about your absence.”</p><p>Indeed, Curtis paces the floor before the throne, his face brightening when he sees Shiro.</p><p>“Are you better, Prince Shiro?” He searches Shiro’s face for any signs of illness, and Shiro nods, giving him an apologetic smile.</p><p>“My lords,” Shiro says, addressing the group. “Prince Curtis may have informed you that I was indisposed.”</p><p>“He did,” Prince Griffin cuts in, examining his nails. “Multiple times, in fact.”</p><p>Shiro winces.</p><p>“I pray you pardon my behaviour. I was not myself today, and I hope you will let me make amends over the coming time we have together.” He receives answers of affirmation, some more enthusiastic than others, and decides that it will have to do.</p><p>Matt rings the bell for quiet. Standing on the dais before his throne, Shiro spreads his arms.</p><p>“Guests of this great kingdom, I thank you for your attendance. It is tradition that I announce my intended on the first day of this event.”</p><p>Cheers rise from the masses in the hall, some nobles clearly inebriated, and someone even throws out a piercing wolf-whistle. Shiro takes a deep breath.</p><p>“However,” he says, and Matt glances at him in alarm. “I will not be betrothed today.”</p><p>Confusion ripples through the crowd, and Shiro hurriedly adds, “Instead, I will be getting further acquainted with my fellow princes and announce my betrothal at another dance in two days’ time. Our celebrations are extended thus.”</p><p>Matt glares at him, but everyone’s already started cheering at the announcement of a kingdom-wide holiday. Shiro gives him a helpless shrug.</p><p>---</p><p>Shiro’s unwinding the bandage from his arm as Matt storms into his chambers, coat flapping in his urgency. He stands next to where Shiro’s sitting on his bed and points a finger straight at the skin between his eyes.</p><p>Shiro raises a brow at him and Matt groans. “Shiro, do you revel in making my work more arduous than it already is?”  </p><p>“I truly, truly do not, Matt,” Shiro intones, fiddling with the lid on his poultice jar. Matt sighs heavily and takes the jar from him, opening it and spreading the paste liberally on Shiro’s slow-healing arm.</p><p>“The princes have agreed to stay for the new length of the celebrations. Count yourself lucky that you have an advisor like me.”</p><p>Shiro snorts and pats him on the arm. “Thank you <em>verily</em>, Lord Holt. I only – I need more time to know these men.”</p><p>Matt hums in agreement. “The whole system was plenty barbaric anyways, if I may,” he says, and sniffs imperiously. “It is difficult to find someone truly your equal. Not everyone can fall in love like our late King and Queen, may they rest in peace.”</p><p>Shiro watches as the frost curls over the pane of his window, finding that his heart commiserates with the way it spirals mindlessly across the glass.</p><p>“And how should it be if they are not equals?”</p><p>Matt frowns. “What do you mean?”</p><p>Shiro shakes his head. “Only a passing notion, Matt. I – I think we should both retire. We have long days ahead.”</p><p>“Wisely said, my prince,” Matt says, the suspicion colouring his tone softening as he bends to place more logs in Shiro’s fireplace for the winter night. “Tomorrow, then.”</p><p>“Tomorrow,” Shiro agrees, turning onto his side as the doors swing shut.</p><p>---</p><p>It is not tomorrow when Shiro swings his legs out of bed. Or it is, but it can scarcely be called ‘tomorrow’ if the cock has not yet crowed, he thinks. The air is brisk and chill, despite the flames still burning in the hearth. He flings a bucket of water at them and leaves the room, telling the soldiers at his door to maintain their posts.</p><p>Outside, the sky is as dark as ink as Shiro proceeds towards the training grounds. The shared grounds of the castle are also vacant, except for those on guard.</p><p>Shiro acknowledges many of them by name as he passes, earning him smiles and the confidence he sorely needs for the next part of his plan.</p><p>He looks around the heavy door to the sheltered area, dotted with training dummies and a wide ring of dirt in the centre. The grass on the floor has long since withered away, leaving a circle of packed earth for sparring.</p><p>Shiro unhooks his cloak from around his neck, setting it on a nearby bench, and draws his blade. It’s unwieldy in his left hand as he tests the balance of it, adjusting his hand on the grip. Though it’s been cleaned, he can’t help but remember the colour of it at the end of each battle. If he’d held it aloft outside, it’d have been indistinguishable from the shade of the sky.</p><p>He takes a testing lunge towards one of the dummies, but his aim veers off. It’s struck in its side instead, toppling heavily to the ground.</p><p>Shiro tries again, stepping once with his right leg in an imaginary parry, then a downward strike – which glances off the dummy’s shoulder. It teeters slowly, and Shiro finishes it off in his first clean stroke with a swift decapitation.</p><p>Frustrated, Shiro tears off his cotton tunic and throws it to the ground, now clad only in a pair of breeches and his boots. The chill should focus him.</p><p>“Who goes there?”</p><p>A voice startles him out of his stance. He swings his head around, searching for its source, and a figure emerges from the armoury.</p><p>Shiro squints in the absence of firelight, and his gaze meets a pair of stunned eyes.</p><p>Keith stops short once he recognises Shiro, blinking slowly as his eyes drag down Shiro’s chest and his bare torso. His breath, made visible by the cold, comes out in short puffs. With his hair messy and his sleep shirt rumpled, Keith looks warm and somewhat vulnerable, and Shiro bites the inside of his cheek.</p><p>“I am sorry to have disturbed your rest, Keith. It is only me.”</p><p>Keith appears to shake himself from his stupor. “My prince,” he says, and Shiro thinks his voice must be roughened by sleep. “I should have attended to you earlier.” He begins to pick up the fallen straw and wood dummies, proceeding to light the lamps that surround them.</p><p>“Nay, I can hardly expect anyone to be training at this hour.” Shiro tells him, then shifts his sword in his grasp awkwardly.</p><p>Keith eyes the way he moves his hand up and down the length of the pommel and frowns. Approaching slowly, he pauses by a shorter sword hanging from the racks on the wall.</p><p>“Would you allow – that is, my prince, may I,” Keith says, with great difficulty, and something in Shiro’s chest blooms. He smiles at Keith, hoping his face does not betray his eagerness too much.</p><p>“I would greatly enjoy having a sparring partner.” Shiro nods encouragingly at him. “And call me Shiro please, Keith.”</p><p>A resolute expression crosses Keith’s face. “Yes, Prince Shiro,” he replies, and Shiro doesn’t have the time to correct him, or be amused at the seriousness with which he had spoken before Keith inserts himself into Shiro’s space.</p><p>He looks Shiro over and his eyes rest on Shiro’s left hand.</p><p>“Balancing your strokes,” Keith starts, words slightly stilted. “You have to compensate for the weight you now lack on your right. Through practice.”</p><p>Shiro had known as much, but the reality of having to relearn his years of swordsmanship makes him grip his sword that much tighter. They settle into stances facing each other, Shiro nodding at Keith to begin.</p><p>He’s completely blindsided by the unrelenting swing that Keith directs at him, barely evading it with a sharp duck to his left. Alarmed, Shiro spins back around as Keith follows with a biting jab. Shiro blocks it clumsily. The clash of their swords echo around the wooden walls, a pitiful composition of Keith’s pressing attacks and Shiro’s desperate attempts to avoid injury.</p><p>Backed into a wall, Shiro holds a hand up to halt their fight, chest rising and falling rapidly. Keith immediately lowers his sword, eyes filling with concern.</p><p>“Steady, Keith,” Shiro manages, after he’s stopped wheezing. “Whence did you learn to fight?”</p><p>Keith’s gaze darts to the side of the room as he uses his free hand to pull nervously on the hem of his tunic. “I studied under Kolivan.”</p><p>Kolivan, head of the armoury and second in command of the King’s soldiers, taking the time to teach a servant?</p><p>“It is no wonder then that you fight like the man himself,” Shiro says wryly. Keith must endear himself to others as swiftly as he’s endeared himself to Shiro. “In a style completely unfamiliar to me, however.”</p><p>Keith only looks up sharply at his teasing tone, brow furrowed. “You are not angry, my prin – Prince Shiro?”</p><p>Shiro laughs. “You are the first to not cradle me like a babe after I had my arm cut off, so no, Keith. I am not angry. I am very much pleased with you.”</p><p>Keith’s cheeks darken a shade in the flickering light as he stares at Shiro, whose laughter trails off under Keith’s keen gaze. A bead of sweat finds its way down Keith’s neck and into his shirt. Abruptly, Shiro jerks his eyes back up to Keith’s face, afraid of having gotten caught, but Keith says nothing and instead points at Shiro’s sword arm.</p><p>“The enemy will now always know the direction of your attack.” His eyes are earnest, and Shiro feels his heart clench as Keith shares a few tactics with him. “But you may surprise them by making greater use of your legs.”</p><p>Keith leads them to place their swords on a table, side by side, and directs Shiro towards the sparring centre.</p><p>“You have much strength in your upper body,” Keith continues, gesturing at Shiro’s chest briefly. “Jumps and kicks, however, are useful diversions. And in some cases, extremely detrimental to the opponent.”</p><p>Keith somersaults into the air, landing a solid boot on an imaginary enemy’s chest, and Shiro winces. The force channelled through Keith’s legs alone would be fatal to most, and he goes on to demonstrate various forms that Shiro tries to imitate, some of which he recognises from their earlier fight.</p><p>They practice, and spar; Keith evading him with grace each time, until the dawn streams in from the cracks left in the windows and in the boards of the walls. The sun awakens the sky with a flood of gold. It shifts, briefly, stirred by clouds, and light streaks down Keith’s face. He squints, momentarily blinded. Shiro snorts and grabs him by the waist.</p><p>“Ah – wait, my Prince,” Keith gasps out, and tries to worm his way out off Shiro’s grasp.</p><p>“I finally caught you,” Shiro laughs, Keith’s great agility having thus far kept Shiro at arm’s reach. He tightens his grip slightly, curving his whole arm around Keith so that his chest is to Keith’s back and his arm across Keith’s chest. Keith flinches, letting out a short exhale that sounds suspiciously like laughter. Shiro’s eyes widen.</p><p>“Prince Shiro –” Keith wriggles and Shiro can’t bear to not let his fingers curl minutely into the softness of Keith’s waist, and <em>there</em>, Keith snorts loudly, sagging back into Shiro.</p><p>“You are ticklish,” Shiro says, dumbly. Quite redundantly too, he thinks as he bites his lip, staring down at Keith, who’s still laughing in small huffs, the rise and fall of Keith’s back evident against him.</p><p>Keith, who’s looking back over his shoulder at Shiro now, chin tilted up to hold Shiro’s gaze. <em>Violet</em>. <em>That’s what colour Keith’s eyes are, in the morning sunrise.</em> He’s still shaking in Shiro’s hold, his stare intent on Shiro’s and brimming with mirth. Shiro feels his grip on Keith loosen without his wanting to.</p><p>And then. A slide of Keith’s foot up the back of his shin. Shiro freezes, his ears hot, and Keith’s lips curve up at him. His shoulder blades press into Shiro’s front.</p><p>“Keith.” Shiro’s voice comes out rough. “I –”</p><p>His legs fly out beneath him as Keith hooks his foot behind Shiro’s knee and <em>yanks</em>. There’s a hard thump as Shiro goes down into the dirt, Keith a whirl of motion on top of him. He lands on his back and Keith somehow atop him, having landed on his four limbs like a particularly smug cat.</p><p>Quick as a gust of wind, Shiro’s wrist is taken into Keith’s grasp, and Keith himself resettles to sit firmly astride Shiro’s hips. Keith’s panting, his face lowered to just above Shiro’s as he stretches his back out to hold Shiro in place.</p><p>Shiro tries to move his arm, tries to lift Keith off, but Keith pins him with the immovability of an ages-old yew. Keith’s grin only spreads wider as Shiro twists about and fails to throw him off, leaning his chest into Shiro’s.</p><p>“How in God’s name are you so –” Shiro grunts as Keith pushes his arm harder into the ground. “– so fucking strong?”</p><p>“Do you yield?” Keith rejoins, after Shiro almost wrenches a muscle in his back attempting to sit up. Shiro scoffs, dropping his head back onto the hard earth. He can feel Keith smile into his neck, just above his collarbone, and he can’t help but echo it.</p><p>He looks down at Keith and goes a little cross eyed as he tries to focus on the smudge of dirt across Keith’s nose. Keith’s chin is still digging into his collarbone, and he’s barely containing his self-congratulatory glee as he raises an eyebrow at Shiro.</p><p>“Fine, fine, I yield,” Shiro laments, and something flickers in Keith’s eyes before he slowly lets Shiro’s wrist go. He stands abruptly and Shiro has a moment to miss the line of Keith’s body against his before Keith stretches out a hand towards him.</p><p>He takes the offered hand gladly, wrapping his fingers around Keith’s equally calloused fingers. They nod at each other, Shiro cataloguing Keith’s mussed hair and the proud set of his jaw, and he lets out a low whistle.</p><p>“I truly laud your skills, Keith.” He claps Keith on the back, and Keith bows his head.</p><p>“It has been an honour sparring with you, my prince,” Keith murmurs, but his face is flushed in exertion, and Shiro hopes, some degree of the happiness Shiro feels.  </p><p>Shiro winces. “Titles, Keith. As I said earlier, friends should have no use for them.”</p><p>Keith glances up swiftly at Shiro, his lips parting. But they are interrupted by the loud crowing of the rooster, followed quickly by clanging and shuffling that slowly filters into the training area as the rest of the castle begins to wake.</p><p>“I have to take my leave,” Shiro says regretfully, sliding his sword back into its sheath. “The princes must be attended to.”</p><p>Keith’s eyes flicker away. He nods, following Shiro to the wooden door. “I wish you an enjoyable day with them.”</p><p>“But I have already had an enjoyable day,” Shiro huffs, turning as he exits the building to beam down at Keith. He rests an arm on the doorframe, leaning into Keith’s space.</p><p>Keith averts his eyes, but Shiro can see the twitch of lips where Keith’s trying to keep from smiling. He grabs hold of the door handle.</p><p>“Farewell,” Keith says, biting his lower lip as he pulls the door shut. Just before it closes, Shiro hears him add a soft, “Shiro”.</p><p>Shiro’s left stunned before the threshold, fingers wrapped around the solid timber, before forcing himself to let go. The tread of his feet fly over the stone floor as he walks away quickly, feeling as though he’s gliding through the air.</p><p>Matt’s hands are on his hips when Shiro returns to his room. Looking Shiro’s grimy shirt and breeches up and down, he sighs, and pinches the area between his brows.</p><p>“Do not,” he says wearily, when Shiro opens his mouth, and Shiro immediately snaps it shut. “Horseriding and tea at the sixteenth hour. Remember that you have to choose one of them.”</p><p>---</p><p>The horses’ coats dapple in the gentle light, shaded as they are by trees, and Shiro can’t help the grin that grows on his face as he sees Black at the forefront. The other princes mill around; Matt gallantly engaging an uninterested-looking Prince Griffin and a much more interested-looking Prince Kinkade. Shiro approaches them with Lady Katie Holt at his back, her presence a repayment of the debt she owes Shiro for his discreet purchase of her scientific equipment.</p><p>Also because her presence fortifies Shiro greatly. Prince Lotor is to some degrees terrifying.</p><p>Shiro draws in a great breath, addressing the five expectant men. “It is a fine day for some riding, my princes. Thank you for joining me.”</p><p>“You have provided us with fine mounts,” Prince Kinkade offers easily, and Shiro gives him a genuine smile.</p><p>“Indeed,” Prince Curtis adds. “Prince Shiro, I very much look forward to our time today.” Shiro’s eyes widen before he can catch himself and he does his best to school his face back to neutrality. Prince Lotor’s lips curl in a smirk as Prince Griffin rolls his eyes.</p><p>“Ah, yes, I, I only hope the fine weather will hold,” Shiro says, and hurriedly waves the servants over to bring the princes to the horses suitable for them.</p><p>Matt falls into step with him as he moves towards Black. “Katie,” he acknowledges his sister with a nod, then taps Shiro on the shoulder. “Try not to look so surprised when they try to court you. It’s what they’re here for.”</p><p>Katie snickers. “Our prince has spent his whole life pretending that all the visiting princes and princesses aren’t practically <em>swooning</em> over him whenever they come. He needs time to adjust, Matt.”</p><p>Shiro feels a flush cover his cheeks. “Katie,” he whispers. “You are supposed to be supporting me, here.”</p><p>She gives him a bored look, her lips pursed. “Distract the scary one,” she says, ticking them off on her fingers. “Make sure the lovelorn one does not steal all your time or attempt a proposal at this picnic.”</p><p>She laughs at Shiro’s scandalised face. “Love can make fools of the best of men.”</p><p>Shiro groans under his breath. “I have spoken but a few sentences to him,” he says, and then starts as he finds a familiar man tending to Black with careful hands. He’s speaking softly to Black, a small smile on his face that captivates Shiro.</p><p>“Keith.” Shiro finds himself striding forward at once, reaching out to pet Black’s flank. Black snuffles happily when she recognises Shiro. The joy Shiro takes in the sound almost surpasses what he feels at Keith’s shy and pleased surprise when Keith sees him.</p><p>“Sh –” Keith says, then his gaze flits to Matt and Katie. “My prince,” he continues, bending deeply at the waist.</p><p>He’s wearing a sturdier tunic this time, strips of cloth wrapped around his palms and wrists, and his warm eyes are now grey in the shade of the clouds.</p><p>Shiro shakes his head quickly and guides Keith back upright. “Bowing so low? My pride is quite wounded to know that I am the only one aching from this morning.” He chuckles at how Keith’s lips part as he blinks rapidly.</p><p>“This morning.” Matt’s voice from his shoulder is like a bucket of ice overturned on Shiro’s head and Shiro winces. Keith is right back to bowing, mumbling apologies for <em>hurting</em> Shiro, of all things, and Shiro sighs.</p><p>“Matt, we only had a good spar. Something I’ve missed since I’ve been back.” Keith looks significantly alarmed as Shiro brings him forward to Matt’s attention. “Keith is a gifted fighter.”</p><p>Matt narrows his eyes slightly at Keith. “You seem familiar, Keith… wait, Keith, you served at the ball?” He shoots Shiro an accusatory look, which Shiro would probably be more offended at if Keith wasn’t looking as though he were a deer before a drawn bow.</p><p>“Enough, Matt,” Shiro says hurriedly, and climbs onto Black, settling into the saddle with a practised ease. He glances down at Keith, who’s holding onto Black’s reins with a steady hand.</p><p>“You will,” Shiro says to Keith, feeling like he’s holding his breath, “be attending to us this afternoon?”</p><p>Keith regains a small smile. “Yes, my prince,” he replies, letting go of the rope in his hand. Shiro returns his warmth, seized with the sudden sensation of a lit fireplace in winter.</p><p>“Indeed? Well – do not stray far.” Shiro’s words somehow emerge softer than the jest he had intended. Keith reaches out to straighten a stirrup, fingers close to Shiro’s ankle, and nods sincerely at him. Katie looks between them multiple times, a gleeful smile curving her lips.</p><p>Matt coughs loudly into his fist. “If we may <em>continue</em>, Prince Shiro,” he says, and Shiro snaps out of it, waving at Keith as he nudges Black off into a slow trot towards the waiting princes. Keith bows shortly and looks away, cheeks colouring slightly as the other servants around him stare.</p><p>“When I spoke of love and fools,” Katie says dryly, guiding her horse beside Shiro’s to keep pace, “I did not realise there was more than one fool present.”</p><p>Shiro raises his eyebrows at her. “Who?”</p><p>Katie turns a deadened stare to Matt, who shrugs helplessly atop another mare.</p><p>“I – never mind.”</p><p>---</p><p>They let the horses stretch their legs in the field, the last vestiges of winter melting away as the horses enjoy the softened ground beneath their hooves. As they ride, Shiro makes effortful but amusing talk with Prince Griffin, who appears to be present more for his parents’ satisfaction than his own. His blunt nature is refreshing, but other than military talk, Shiro cannot find other common ground. It begins to wear on Shiro when it touches too close to the recent war, and Shiro politely excuses himself as Matt picks up where he leaves off.</p><p>They near their designated picnic area. It is dotted with comfortable chairs and mats, a white tent erected overhead to shield them from the direct sun. The kitchen and service staff bustle around, pouring tea and setting out delicate sandwiches on fine porcelain.</p><p>Shiro swings off Black quickly and leaves her to an attendant, patting her gently on the nose as he does.</p><p>“Oh!” A worried yelp catches Shiro’s attention, and he finds Prince Adam struggling to dismount. Prince Adam had been rather quiet so far, but Shiro had been well-briefed by Matt. Not a soldier, not one for sentiment, but <em>stable</em>, was the word used to describe him. Stable is – stable is good, Shiro thinks. Stable is certainly what the kingdom needs right now.</p><p>Shiro holds out his hand to Prince Adam, who startles.</p><p>“If I may, Prince Adam,” Shiro asks. The prince takes his hand in a cautious grip.</p><p>“Thank you,” he says, eyes suddenly considering, and Shiro takes in a deep breath.</p><p><em>Right. Courtship</em>.  </p><p>He leads Prince Adam over to the picnic area, where Prince Griffin has shed his shoes and sprawled comfortably on a mat. Prince Lotor, sitting next to Katie, raises a brow at Shiro’s hand in Prince Adam’s and Shiro hastily snatches it away.</p><p>Where he chooses to sit becomes another game of chess, and Shiro wishes that he’d had the foresight to ask just for chairs to be arranged in one circle on the grass, damn the irregularity. There’s a long pause as Prince Adam takes a seat on the edge of the mat, leaving enough room for someone to sit by them. Shiro hopes the sweat pouring down his face can be blamed on the hideous, fur-lined robe Matt had made him wear.</p><p>Prince Kinkade saves him by gesturing to the spot next to him, just between himself and Prince Adam. Prince Curtis, having taken another seat, looks exceedingly dour. Shiro bites his lip and edges into the place between them.</p><p>The absurdity of the forced casualness of this picnic, mere weeks after the end of the war, suddenly grips Shiro tight. Matt raises a teacup at the princes, who lift their own in return.</p><p>“I sincerely hope you are enjoying your time with us, your Highnesses,” Matt says, and the awkwardness fades slightly. Shiro is reminded to give Matt a raise. Maybe quarters with a better fireplace.</p><p>Prince Griffin shrugs. “It’s pretty cold here. Home’s warmer.” Prince Adam seems aghast at his directness, but Shiro barely stifles a smile.</p><p>Leaning back to rest on his hands, Prince Kinkade snorts. “Not all of us are used to the chill, Prince Shiro. But the hearths in our rooms have been well-stoked each night, and for that I am grateful.”</p><p>Shiro thinks that Prince Kinkade too, may make a fine King.</p><p>Prince Lotor tilts his head towards the group. “And you, your Highness?” he asks Shiro, the lilt in his voice carefully suggestive. “You must be enjoying the presence of five suitors at once.”</p><p>The attention of all on Shiro cause his back to straighten as he meets their expectant gazes. “Well – I, uh – I am, honoured, that you have expressed interest, in well…”</p><p>“His Highness is glad for your presence and would like to be better acquainted with you,” finishes Katie, and Shiro shoots her a relieved smile.</p><p>“You are usually so composed, Prince Shiro,” Prince Lotor drawls, lounging a little to the left in his chair. Shiro can see that he is only giving the impression of a slouch however, his body held tightly and controlled. He can’t stop himself from recalling the rumours that Prince Lotor’s mother had played a role in their war. Rumours, again, that his intelligence was unable to corroborate, but rumours nonetheless. “Is courtship so different from battle?”</p><p>Prince Curtis actually rises from his chair. “Such insolence,” he says tightly, levelling a fierce glare at Prince Lotor. “To speak lightly of the war–”</p><p>Things are quickly escalating out of hand. Prince Kinkade and Prince Adam wear matching frowns, no doubt in Shiro’s defence, and Shiro feels a desperate laugh bubble up in his throat. He nods genially. There is no use in rising to Prince Lotor’s obvious provocation.</p><p>“I am sure no offence was meant,” Shiro says, hand held out placatingly, and Prince Curtis reluctantly takes a seat. Shiro draws in a slow breath before he speaks. “I am sure all of us prefer peacetime, Prince Lotor.”</p><p>“I certainly prefer the food now,” Prince Griffin mutters, and Prince Kinkade shoots him a warning look.</p><p>“No doubt, no doubt,” Prince Lotor smiles and Shiro anticipates the arrow in his sharp teeth. It doesn’t hurt any less when Lotor lets it fly. “Prince Shiro, leading an army to victory has inscribed your good name into legend. All that, with your <em>illness</em>, no less.”</p><p>Next to Prince Lotor, Matt slowly closes his eyes, his grip tightening on the handle of his cup.</p><p>“Illness?” Prince Adam repeats softly, and Shiro lets his placid, agreeable smile slide off his face.</p><p>“I was diagnosed with an illness incurable a few weeks before the start of the war,” Shiro mumbles softly, and doesn’t miss the other princes’ sharp intake of breath. All except Prince Kinkade and Prince Lotor, who had been present at the first war briefing before everything had gone downhill.</p><p>“You should not have gone then,” Prince Adam asserts, mouth pulling down into a frown. “What if the fighting had exacerbated it? Another should have led.”</p><p>Matt’s eyes widen at Shiro, whose mind leaps back to the reluctance with which Prince Adam’s kingdom had sent reinforcements, and feels as though his patience is running through a sieve.</p><p>“I have,” he says slowly to Prince Adam, “heard all this before. It did not change my mind. And as you can see,” Shiro continues, nodding towards where his right sleeve hangs loose. “The illness has been cured.”</p><p>Prince Adam huffs softly, but pointedly keeps his mouth shut. Shiro gets to his feet, suddenly unable to bear sitting still. He turns to Prince Kinkade.</p><p>“May I interest you in something more substantial to eat?” Shiro holds out an open palm towards him, and he hopes to God that Prince Kinkade understands him. Sure enough, he takes Shiro’s hand to stand and both of them proceed into the shelter of the tent. Shiro feels like it’s protecting him from more than just the sun.</p><p>Keith is there, hair windswept and setting out utensils diligently. He must have caught up to the party with one of the smaller horses. Shiro looks away, from the suffocating gathering outside the tent, from the man he wants to approach but cannot, to the ground beneath his feet. He feels the weight of Prince Kinkade’s eyes on him, and prepares himself to apologise, but Prince Kinkade only places his hand around Shiro’s arm.</p><p>“Scone?” Prince Kinkade offers kindly. Shiro takes one from him with grateful eyes.</p><p>They walk to the edge of the tent and find two chairs. Prince Kinkade pulls Shiro down into the chair next to him and they eat slowly, savouring the richness of the dough.</p><p>“Look, Prince Shiro.” Prince Kinkade rests a hand on the back of Shiro’s chair. “I think we have been through enough together.”</p><p>Prince Kinkade had been in the war room with him from the onset of the fighting, a strong, silent presence that had interjected only with helpful, considered suggestions. They had managed their own armies, but for all that Shiro knew how good of a man he was, he still found himself hoping that Prince Kinkade would not continue.</p><p>“I hope you know that – ” Prince Kinkade squints at him. “Why do you look like you are in pain?”</p><p>Shiro swallows his mouthful of scone quickly and winces. “Prince Kinkade, I am deeply grateful for your proposal – ”</p><p>Prince Kinkade clamps a hand on his shoulder. “As I was going to say, I hope you know the deep, <em>brotherly</em>, regard I hold for you. Prince Shiro. My friend.”</p><p>A beat passes. A laugh builds in Shiro’s belly until he tears up, leaning into Prince Kinkade.</p><p>“I know you were going to choose me,” Prince Kinkade says assuredly. “I would even have accepted. Yet I see now that you would not be content, and I believe the both of us have earned that much, at least.”</p><p>Matt’s warning look resounds in his head. Shiro immediately opens his mouth to argue that no, he would be content, most definitely, with someone like Prince Kinkade by his side. But he can’t bring himself to do it.</p><p>He looks around the tent and finds Keith’s eyes on him. Red seeps across Keith’s cheeks and he breaks their stare, darting away towards the horses.</p><p>Prince Kinkade follows Shiro’s gaze and smiles. “It is alright, Prince Shiro. I understand.”</p><p>---</p><p>Shiro stares into the roaring fireplace, fingers digging into the sheets as he perches on the edge of the bed. The final ball arrives tomorrow, and Shiro has squandered his opportunity with the only Prince he had a chance of learning how to love. And what for?</p><p>A knock interrupts his downward spiral.</p><p>“Enter,” he calls. His manservant walks in, the usual clank of the tray he carries sounding out his movement across the room.</p><p>“I will take my bath and retire to bed,” Shiro says, but no presence approaches to help him disrobe.</p><p>Confused, Shiro looks over, and stops still as he meets Keith’s eyes. For a moment, Shiro watches the flames of the fireplace burn in Keith’s violet irises. The warm light dances over his cheekbones and down the worn but clean shirt he’s wearing, similar to the one he wore during their spar. He’s still holding the medicine and toiletries in his hands.</p><p>Shiro forces himself to go to him, gently taking the tray from him and setting it down on the bed.</p><p>“Keith,” Shiro murmurs, and Keith lowers his eyes.</p><p>“My prince,” he replies. “I am to help you retire tonight. Thomas is indisposed.”</p><p>Abruptly, Shiro feels like Keith’s hands on him would be unwise. “You do not need to help me. I can prepare to sleep on my own.”</p><p>Keith’s eyes slide to the elaborate ties at the nape of Shiro’s neck. Shiro sees the stubborn set to his jaw.</p><p>“Please, allow me, my prince,” he grounds out, reaching for the ribbons, and Shiro lets himself be tugged towards Keith as he unwinds the lengths of cloth with purposeful care. They sit down slowly on the bed.</p><p>“My regular manservant is gentler than this,” Shiro can’t help but tease, giving Keith a small smile as he responds with a baleful glance.</p><p>“Forgive me,” Keith mumbles, not sounding in any way apologetic. “I work in the stables.” Shiro laughs.</p><p>He watches Keith’s teeth sink into his lower lip as he works, nimble fingers flying to his sleeve where another set of ribbons await undoing. The silence is comfortable, and Shiro relaxes into it.</p><p>“The picnic today,” Shiro offers. “I hope it was a reprieve from your usual tasks.”</p><p>Keith nods, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I enjoyed the warmth of the sun. The food was also enjoyable.”</p><p>Shiro hums, and as the conversation flows he feels that he must have imagined the earlier tightness to Keith’s shoulders. He chuckles when Shiro tells him about Prince Curtis, but it wavers slightly when he brings up Prince Adam’s comment.</p><p>“This was… the only way?” he asks, voice soft as he tugs lightly on Shiro’s empty sleeve.</p><p>Shiro swallows and forces himself to look Keith in the eye. “The fighting worsened my condition. I am thankful that I only had to lose it when the war was coming to an end.” An arm for a country. It had been an easy exchange, and the illness had unexpectedly left Shiro with it.</p><p>Keith nods thoughtfully, eyes searching Shiro’s. “We may have fought for much longer if it were not for you.” He pauses, as though weighing the words in his mouth. “I was there,” he says.</p><p>At Shiro’s confused face, he clarifies, “At the Abyss.”</p><p>Shiro can’t help the short, choked gasp that escapes him. It had been by far the harshest and the last of all the fronts, the soldiers there dying by the thousands before Shiro had, in the darkest days of his despair and in an act far too merciful, sliced off the head of the enemy King.</p><p>He grabs at Keith’s forearms. “You were trained before you went, yes?” Desperation claws at his throat, at the thought that Keith was almost one of the many that had been sent there into the void, never to return.</p><p>Keith blinks rapidly and turns to stare into the hearth. “I had not been sent to fight. I was there to tend to the horses and care for the weapons. But soon enough there were more horses and weapons than there were soldiers.”</p><p>“Damn him!” Shiro cries, letting go of Keith’s wrists. “Slav knew I had expressly ordered only trained soldiers–”</p><p>Keith stills him with a touch to the shoulder. “We knew the order could not have come from our honourable prince. It was my choice to take up arms,” he says, voice low. “Kolivan saved my life on many occasions. You were fighting alongside all of us, my prince. How could I do any less?”</p><p>His face is open, aching in its honesty. Shiro would look upon it every day if he could.</p><p>Keith pats his shoulder and Shiro realises the ties of his shirt have all been undone. Together, they slide the cotton over his head, the chill air giving Shiro goosebumps as it hits his bare skin. He feels Keith’s eyes dart down to his chest and then away.</p><p>He stands. “Your boots,” he says, voice so soft Shiro can barely hear him. And then he goes to one knee in front of Shiro.</p><p>Shiro moves to stop him, but Keith gives him a firm look and begins tugging off his shoes. “I am here to assist, my prince. I <em>will</em> do my job.”</p><p>“You should not still be here, Keith,” Shiro murmurs, thinking of the soldiers he’d sent home to their families, each with a hefty purse and orders to have the time they needed away. “You should be at – at the coast, breathing in the healthy air. With your family.”</p><p>“You would have me leave?” Keith retorts, yanking off the second boot a bit too forcefully. “This castle is the only home I’ve known. I have no other family.”</p><p>At once, Shiro goes to his knees next to him. “I did not know, Keith,” Shiro says. “I would never ask you to leave.”</p><p>Keith raises his chin to Shiro. “I will not, even if you did.”</p><p>“A higher placement, then. No one would deny any who fought a rank,” Shiro tries, only to be quelled by a shake of Keith’s head.</p><p>“I am not one for nobility, my prince.”</p><p>“I would make you comfortable, Keith. I would teach you – ”</p><p>Keith laughs, low and wet. “Shiro,” he says, and it is the first time Shiro hates the sound of his name in Keith’s mouth. “With what time? You will soon have a, a <em>husband</em>, and I will return to my place in the armoury. There, I am – I am satisfied.”</p><p>He lowers his head. Shiro reaches out for him, slowly, so that Keith allows Shiro’s hand on him, and runs a careful finger over the wetness under Keith’s eye. “Then why do you cry, Keith?”</p><p>Keith lets out a sluggish, shuddering breath. “Do not make this harder for me, I pray you.” His words are almost a beg. “I saw you. Today, with – with Prince Kinkade.”</p><p>“Oh, Keith,” Shiro murmurs, “Prince Kinkade is not for me.” Keith’s face crumples, his body curling into itself even as Shiro cradles his jaw with his hand. “I will not marry him. I would not lie about this.”</p><p>The heat of the fireplace seeps into Shiro’s flesh as he continues to thumb away Keith’s tears, pearls of precious liquid that Shiro dries with utmost gentleness.</p><p>“You have known me a day, Shiro,” Keith whispers. His eyes run over Shiro’s face and fall to Shiro’s lips. “You should not.”</p><p>“I wish I had known you then,” Shiro says fiercely, and Keith’s eyes blow wide. “I was not myself at the Abyss. But I wish I had met you earlier, that I might have known you earlier. Protected you, fought alongside you. And now… you may be right, that I should not.”</p><p>Shiro tenderly rests his forehead against Keith’s. “And yet, it was only yesterday that you also instructed me not to sacrifice my heart.” He laughs quietly. “What am I to do with these conflicting orders?”</p><p>“I want to know you more,” Shiro promises, his hand sliding to the back of Keith’s neck. “My heart.”</p><p>Keith sobs out a gasp and grabs Shiro’s face in his hands, closing the distance between them. Their mouths meet in an ungainly fashion, a rough clash of Keith’s lips against his. But Shiro feels something in his chest, unsettled from the moment he had first drawn his sword on a battlefield far from this castle, slot into place. Something like peace.</p><p>The relief is fleeting. Keith draws back, his palm pressed firmly against his mouth, leaving Shiro panting into the cold air.</p><p>The fire next to them has weakened to a few simmering flames, the icy air now prickling uneasily on Shiro’s body. Keith scrambles to his feet, bowing deep and low, and dread overcomes Shiro.</p><p>“I am so sorry,” Keith cries, “I have forgotten my place, my prince.” His title slams into Shiro’s chest like a battering ram.</p><p>“No – wait, Keith, wait,” Shiro says, reaching for him, but Keith takes slow, retreating steps towards the door.</p><p>“Don’t follow me, please,” Keith pleads, and slips away.</p><p>---</p><p>Shiro awakens to heavy knocking on his door, groaning as the events of the night before come rushing back to his mind. Dragging a hand through his hair, he pushes himself slowly off the carpet.</p><p>He’d paced the room, thought about calling for someone to call Keith back to him, taken a quick bath, and then thought about calling someone to fetch Keith for the second time. That time, he’d almost made it out the door before he had forced himself back into his chambers. And then locked the doors and drunk himself into a light stupor, lest he did something rash like sprint to the armoury and beg for Keith to see him.</p><p>The thumping on the door echoes the pounding of his head, and Shiro stumbles slightly as he unlocks it. Matt bursts in with a tray piled high with cheeses, fruit, and some almond pottage.</p><p>“Breakfast for our soon-to-be engaged prince!” he crows, only to stop short and stare at Shiro’s face, astonished. He turns to see the wine bottle Shiro’d left lying forlorn on the floor, knocked over in his haste to get to the door, and blinks twice.</p><p>The cheer in Matt’s expression fades. Shiro braces himself for the oncoming rebuke, feeling profoundly disappointed in himself. Instead, however, Matt slowly puts down the tray.</p><p>“You drank, Shiro,” Matt says, voice devoid of emotion.</p><p>“I know, I know.” Shiro rubs at his eyes, which are suspiciously wet. “I apologise, Matt. I am always making your work difficult, especially with the other princes – ”</p><p>“I don’t give a rat’s ass about <em>them</em>,” Matt hisses. Shiro takes a step back as Matt grabs his hand, grip unusually soft. “I have not witnessed you drink since – since the King and Queen...”  He trails off, gulping, and Shiro can’t bring himself to meet his fierce gaze.</p><p>“It is not them,” Shiro says quietly, and Matt frowns.</p><p>“Then what, Shiro? Tell me. I will not be angry.”</p><p>Shiro sighs heavily and picks up the drink of water from the tray, downing it all in one go. The water eases the throbbing in his temples.</p><p>“Matt,” he starts, somehow unable to keep his voice from shaking. “I cannot go through with the engagement.”</p><p>Matt’s mouth draws into a thin line. “This is what you have been concerned with?” And then with a measured, gentler tone, says, “It is too soon, after the war. Shiro, I will personally inform your suitors that they will return when you are ready.”</p><p>Shiro closes his eyes. “I may never be.”</p><p>“Shiro,” Matt says, voice soothing. “You agreed with the other advisors – ”</p><p>“I had to!” Shiro flings out, gulping in large breaths. “You were there, Matt. They honour me as their prince out of respect for my parents, but none of them trust a broken soldier. This marriage is meant to corral me, will me into someone more stable. As though – as though I am the threat to the kingdom after I fought so long to save it.” His hand tightens around the glass, feeling for all the world like the delicate stem about to snap.</p><p>Matt eases the glass from Shiro’s choking fingers and sets it back on the tray, guiding Shiro to sit on the bed. In the quiet, he only clasps Shiro’s arm and waits for Shiro’s pained breaths to subside.</p><p>“Shiro.” Matt’s eyes search his. “What happened last night?”</p><p>Shiro laughs, and it sounds a bit unhinged. “Nothing of consequence.”</p><p>Matt does not laugh at all. “… it is not about when you marry, is it?” he asks softly, and Shiro can’t stop how he jolts away from him. “It’s about who.”</p><p>“Leave it, Matt,” Shiro says, but his voice comes out ragged instead of the commanding he’d intended. “He does not want me.”</p><p>“Ah.” Matt sucks in his cheeks before taking a short breath. “Would this, by any chance, be about Keith?”</p><p>Shiro looks away, which is probably answer enough.</p><p>Matt sighs. “Did he tell you of his feelings exactly?”</p><p>“Not in the same words,” Shiro whispers. “But we – we kissed. And he ran from me and told me not to follow.” Every word is a welt on his tongue.  </p><p>There’s a prolonged silence. Matt raises his hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose.</p><p>“I suppose I should have known. I asked after Keith when the riding excursion ended.” He raises a hand to Shiro’s startled expression. “The way you <em>looked</em> at him, Shiro. And, during the event, the way he looked at you.”</p><p>Shiro swallows tightly. Matt continues, “I spoke with Kolivan about him. Dedicated and headstrong, was what he told me. Sounds a lot like someone I know.” He gives Shiro a small smile. “To speak truthfully, Shiro, I was... <em>concerned</em>. There are people who would take advantage of your situation, and what kind of friend and advisor would I be if I stood there and let it happen?”</p><p>“No, you must be mistaken, Keith isn’t – he wouldn’t,” Shiro blurts out. “Keith is nothing but kind and honest.”</p><p>Matt pats his shoulder soothingly. “I know that now. Which is why I am certain that Keith did not mean the things he said to you last night.” Shiro wants to object, but he takes Shiro’s hand into his own. “You must remember that Keith is the one with more to lose.”</p><p>Shiro thinks of the way Keith’s eyes had shuttered the night before, sorrow pooling at the edges, and a small flicker of hope pulses in his chest. He tightens his grip on Matt’s hand.</p><p>“Matt, I need your help,” Shiro says urgently. As though he’d been expecting the very words from Shiro’s mouth, Matt nods firmly in return.</p><p>---</p><p>Shiro spends what feels like ten years, but what is likely closer to the few hours that could be spared before the final betrothal dance forcing himself to react calmly to every accusation and doubt hurled at him. Be not what they think you are, he reminds himself, so that you might prove them wrong. His fingernails have made lasting imprints on the meat of his palm. Shiro counts each one of them a victory.</p><p>He is back before the mirror in his chambers just like the night of the first ball, only this time he is clad in a coal black doublet, the whole furskin of a moose rippling down his back, and most damningly, with a circlet perched on the crown of his head.</p><p>The door swings open and Matt strides in, smiling approvingly at Shiro’s reflection. “You look ravishing, my prince, oh, or should I say – ” he starts, and narrowly dodges as Shiro reaches to elbow him in the gut, affecting a betrayed moan. “Hurting me, after all I’ve done for you this afternoon,” he whines, clutching a hand over his heart.</p><p>Shiro huffs out a laugh, patting Matt on the shoulder. “Thank you, Matt. For everything.”</p><p>Matt pulls a face. “Ugh, do not get sentimental with me, Shirogane.” He pushes Shiro towards the door. “Time to go and give everyone a show.”</p><p> A few minutes later, Shiro tenses as the doors to the Great Hall swing open and he is announced. The lively murmurs from within dim, then resurge to blatant gasps as the guests take in what adorns his head.</p><p>Shiro forces himself onwards, steeling his expression and making his way to the dais. His gaze is locked on the throne. If he sees any red in the crowd, he’s not sure what he’ll do. But the unfamiliar weight of the crown steadies him, gives him comfort. He’s sure his parents would have supported him, and the thought gives him courage to address the crowd.</p><p>“It is my joy to welcome you again to my home,” Shiro says, the pounding of his heart echoing in his ears. “I would ask you to listen closely to my next words.”</p><p>Movement at the right side of the room catches his eye. There, Matt appears, and behind him –</p><p>Shiro locks eyes with Keith, whose rumpled tunic belies his day spent in the armoury. He’s obviously worked a laborious day, insistent on not letting what happened between them disrupt him, and Shiro thinks that he truly must be the better man between them. His hands, wrapped in cloth like the morning of the picnic, are coated in what looks to be the oil for the weapons. His hair is slightly tangled, the ends sticking to his sweat-coated neck.</p><p>He’s still the most beautiful thing Shiro’s ever seen.</p><p>Keith swallows tightly, breaking Shiro’s trance, and looks around himself. The finery of the nobles near him cause him to take a cautious step back. Matt sees the motion and pulls Keith forward to stand next to him.</p><p>Shiro’s lips are as dry as the desert. He wets them, and says, “There will be no betrothal today.”</p><p>The nobles break out into fervent murmurs. Shiro turns to his right, to the five princes gathered there, and tries his utmost to convey an apologetic glance. Prince Curtis refuses to meet his gaze, as expected from the heated words exchanged a few hours earlier, but Prince Kinkade gives him a supportive nod.</p><p>Shiro continues. “Our court advisors and my fellow princes have unilaterally decided that the appointment of a spouse is unnecessary for my station as King,” he says, priding himself on how his voice barely shakes. “All of us want peace, and I think it would be a disservice to the longstanding alliances between our kingdoms to say otherwise.”</p><p>Instantly the crowd quiets, the sceptical looks on many turning to ingratiating smiles as they turn their attention to the princes on Shiro’s right. He does not stop to consider their fickle allegiance. There is something more important that he must say.</p><p>“There will be a formal ceremony in which I am crowned in the next few weeks. I… apologise for not giving the kingdom a betrothal. But I give the kingdom my devotion, since the war I have not stopped – ”</p><p>He stops to draw a shaky breath. “ – and I have never intended on giving any less. Who I love does not change that.”</p><p>He dares to look at Keith now, needing him, desperately, to understand.</p><p>“Let it be known that whoever I love,” Shiro declares, knowing that in front of a sea of people, he’s speaking for only one, “neither rank nor station may separate us. He will maintain his position if he so wishes, and so will I, continuing with our responsibilities but for the time we will spend together. We will have time to know each other. It will be a love for ourselves alone.”</p><p>Keith’s eyes widen with each passing sentence. Shiro wants to go to him, to be able to hold him tightly in a safe place, just the two of them. But when Shiro stops speaking, he jerks his head roughly to the side, away from Shiro’s searching eyes; his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.</p><p><em>Oh.</em> Shiro blinks away the disappointment that threatens to well up in his eyes and breathes until his pulse returns to its regular pace. He lowers his eyes to his feet.</p><p>“Should he not return my affections,” he says quietly, steadily, “I would be grateful for his friendship all the same. I would find my joy in his happiness, no matter what.” As the words leave his mouth, serenity settles over him like dew in the morning. He nods once in Keith’s direction and turns, intending on cueing the quartet before all the guests realise how personal Shiro’s words sound, and so that he may nurse his broken heart in peace –</p><p>“And if he should?” A firm voice stops him in his tracks.</p><p>Shiro scarcely dares to hope. He turns back slowly, as though to a frightened animal, but he needn’t have discounted Keith thus. There he stands, almost to the edge of the dais, right in front of Shiro, head tilted back almost in challenge.</p><p>Shiro feels a little unsteady, as though their roles have somehow been reversed.</p><p>“If he should?” Keith repeats, meeting Shiro’s stare head on. “Return your affections, I mean.”</p><p>The whole room seems to be holding its breath; the King’s guard, who had gathered around the throne upon Keith’s approach, are waved off by Matt. This close, Keith’s eyes are a warm, liquid purple. He moves onto the first step of the platform.</p><p>“Keith,” Shiro says, dazed.</p><p>“The man who returns your affections would not be satisfied with just your friendship,” Keith says, and the corner of his lips quirk upwards. He takes another step up, putting himself close to Shiro’s chest, which his heart is making a valiant attempt of escaping.</p><p>“He wants to know you, too.” Keith makes the final step so that they stand on equal ground; Shiro’s hand reaching out to clasp Keith’s arm as Keith’s other hand rests gently against Shiro’s cheek. “My heart,” he whispers, face splitting in a beautiful smile.</p><p>This time, it’s a slow, imminent thing. Shiro pulls lightly on Keith’s arm, tipping him forward, and Keith sinks into his embrace, one hand balanced on Shiro’s chest. He’s sure he hears Matt whoop in the background and perhaps clapping from their audience, but the world fades away when his mouth brushes Keith’s. Keith sighs into his mouth, winding his other arm around Shiro’s neck, and moves against him, sweet and languid.</p><p>When Keith breaks away, the dances have begun. The crowd is endeavouring to give them some privacy, likely at the behest of Matt, to whom Shiro must owe his crown by now.</p><p>But Keith is here, with him, armoury dust lining the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and laughing into his shoulder, and Shiro presses a kiss into his hair.</p><p>“I can’t believe we did that,” Keith says, voice somewhat muffled where he’s put his face into Shiro’s heavy cloak. Red tinges the parts of Keith’s face that he can see, and Keith groans. “I will never be able to show my face again.”</p><p>“It would be a pity,” Shiro agrees. “I like your face very much.”</p><p>Keith’s cheeks turn redder. He draws back to shove at Shiro gently. “The King should not say such things,” he chastises, and looks out into the crowd, brow creased, as though someone might have heard. Shiro snorts.</p><p>“The King has already let everyone know of his love for you,” Shiro says firmly, wrapping his arm around Keith’s waist, and delights in how Keith plays at rolling his eyes, a shy smile on his lips.</p><p>“So.” Keith puts both arms around Shiro’s neck. “I can still work with the armoury and the stables?” At Shiro’s nod, his smile grows. “I can still spar with you?” Shiro hums in affirmation and Keith smiles wider. “And I can… still kiss my Shiro?”  </p><p>Shiro answers that with his mouth, hauling Keith back in and pouring his affection into Keith’s mouth until he gasps for air.</p><p>Guests are breaking out into cheers near them, shy admirers Shiro has never seen before gaining the courage to extend invitations to dance, the open affection of their King buoying spirits and courage. The war is truly over.</p><p>He’s so happy. He looks down at Keith in his arms and thinks about asking Keith to dance. And realises that he can.</p><p>Keith follows his line of sight. “Ah, Shiro,” he protests, inching away, “Wait.”</p><p>“Please?” Shiro drops a kiss on Keith’s cheek.</p><p>“Shiro!” Keith exclaims, hands coming up to shield his face. “I can fight and spar with you, but I have never danced.”</p><p>“It is alright. I can teach you, just as you teach me,” Shiro says, gently taking his hands into his own and leaning forward to smile against Keith’s mouth. Keith’s fingers grasp his tightly, the warm weight of them slotting naturally into place. “We have all the time we need.”</p>
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